Moments In The Life Of A Dead Man
by Nyt Yanse
Summary: John dealt with the knowledge that he was dying every day for twenty years. The people closest to him had to deal with that too.
1. Chapter 1

Moments In The Life Of A Dead Man.

Rating: I'm going to say T because it mentions death in every chapter.

Characters: Sheridan in every chapter, the story focuses on him. Other characters will be mentioned as they arrive in my head. This chapter has David Sheridan.

Summary: John dealt with the knowledge that he was dying every day for twenty years. The people closest to him had to deal with that too. This chapter is about John telling his father.

Author's note: I just re-read LizBee's story Time That You Love. It prompted me to write this.

John looked away. He couldn't stand to see the pain in his fathers' eyes. The sounds of the party still permeated the room, but its gaiety seemed incapable of lifting the mood of impending grief. With those few words, snatched by a panicking father in-between political greetings, it was like highlighting a shadowy figure of death in the corner.

"Dad," he said, unsure of how to continue. "Dad... I know how hard this is, how much it hurts..."

Uncharacteristically, David laughed bitterly. "If you should be so lucky, John... If you and Delenn have a child... Try to imagine how it feels to know you will, in all likeliness, outlive him. That's a crime against parenthood."

"Dad..." John started again, walking towards his ever-strong father, whose shoulders were shaking. David Sheridan had gone very pale, and his jaw seemed welded shut. "Dad, please... Say something."

For a moment, it looked like horror and rage at the universe had ended his ability to speak. Then, as if the words caused him great pain, he started to speak. "Do you remember, when you were ten, one of the older horses was running around the back field, bucking and kicking, and suddenly the horse stopped and lay down. I wouldn't let you go near him while the vet came and took him away. I told you that he was sick and the vet was going to try and help him. After that, every time you asked when he was coming home I'd just say 'When he's better'."

John felt the tears slid down his face. He did remember, and as silly as it was to react like this, he had never truly stopped waiting for the horse to come home. He had simply stopped asking. As an adult, had he thought about it, he would have known the horse was long dead. But he hadn't thought about it- it had become one of the things he was waiting for without realising.

For another few moments, silence pervaded the small space. David had never been distant to John, he had never seemed separate from him, they had always been a part of each other. But now, grief was pulling him away from his father and he felt like a drowning man in a storm.

Just as the waters of emotion were closing over his head, David started talking again.

"If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you, if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don't deal in lies, or being hated, don't give way to hating, and yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:" As John realised what his father was talking about, the tears flooded down his face. He couldn't move, almost couldn't breathe as his father continued to recite the poem he'd heard as a child.

"If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; if you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; if you can meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two impostors just the same; if you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:" Each word pulled him back to his childhood, a small, knee scraped scrap of humanity lying in bed, insisting that sleep would elude him forever as his father smiled and spoke these words, words that John had been sure came from an ancient spell, the way they had held him spellbound and pulled him into the world of dreams- just as sure as he had been that he would never be wise enough to understand the things that were spoken about in its fluid lines.

"If you can make one heap of all your winnings and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, and lose, and start again at your beginnings and never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'" In those seconds, he remembered it all, every moment of pain since his instalment on Babylon 5- the pain of his grief for Anna, his confusion of love for Delenn, the betrayal of being told his own government was turning against its people, Anna's return and the agony she brought with her, the cruellest weapon- his death on Zha'Ha'Dum, Lorien's miracle and it's price, Delenn's reaction, the struggles, the battles, the long, terrible haul of a seemingly unbearable weight he'd never understood, he'd always questioned- Why him? Why was he the one with this burden? Why couldn't someone else take that terrible burden, even for a time? He'd never acknowledged such questions to himself, certainly never to another- but they'd been there, dragging the weight down, making it heavier. Those blasphemous thoughts had been gouged out of him on Mars and forced into his face, his doubts, his resentments, every 'Why me?' and 'How could they?' he'd ever felt had been laid bare, it seemed, for all the world to see. And now, with a poem he had known and loved his entire life, his father answered every question.

"If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, if all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds' worth of distance run, yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, and- which is more-" John held his breath, accepting the revelation, the knowledge, that his father had known long ago and he had only just realised, "you'll be a Man, my son!"

The sobs burst out with his restrained air, an explosive decompression of pain, grief, rage, hate, injustice, terror, humiliation and every other emotion he'd repressed or ignored over the last three years and finally, choking, he dragged back into his lungs the acceptance, the stabile ground of knowing that he understood it all now, that his path may be hard, but it was not unwalkable. In his mind, he could see it; Delenn, cradling a child in her arms, the feeling of his heart swelling with emotion too powerful for a name, so powerful they hurt in a way he would never give up, a new burden of love, commitment, responsibility, grief and worry that he could bear- would bear- because that was part of it, part of what it meant to be a Man, just like his father.


	2. Chapter 2

"...And the Drazi are complaining about the trade deal with the Narns, they say they were tricked into signing an unfair deal."

"No surprise there."

"Well, there have been several fights about it already, and one standoff near the JumpGate. I'd appreciate something said in one of their IA meetings, Mr President. Preferably before my station gets trashed by a stray shot."

"I'll make a point of it in the next session, Captain. Is there anything else?"

"No, not really... except..."

"What? Something wrong?"

"Well, I saw Delenn on the transport tube this morning and, well, I think I may have inadvertently said something that upset her."

"Oh? What makes you think that? She hasn't said anything."

"Well, I don't know what it is that I said. We were talking about... well mostly random stuff, nothing serious, and then... OK, one moment we're both smiling and chatting about fairy tales- don't ask- and then she just went quiet."

"Real life fairy tales... Wait a minute. Did you use the phrase 'and they lived happily ever after'?"

"Yeah, I think I did. Why?"

*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*

"Oh."

"Yeah, I know."

"Twenty..."

"Well. Nineteen. Or... eighteen and half now. I guess. Time flies when you're... having fun."

"Delenn's having trouble, isn't she?"

"I don't know. We don't talk about it much. Or at all."

"Does your family know?"

"I told my Dad. He's going to tell the others."

"The crew... your friends here... they all know?"

"Well, they were all here around that time."

"How'd they deal with it?"

"Susan yelled and screamed at me. Garibaldi just ignored it... which, considering what was going on in his brain at the time, I understand now. Stephen took a sample of my blood to study... I don't think he'll accept this until it's over."

"...and you? How are you dealing?"

"I don't know. It's weird... I work. I eat. I sleep. I don't think about it, I don't dwell on it... But every once in a while, something happens and... For instance, last week, Zack made a joke at dinner about how he was gonna be here until he retired and I said everyone on B5 would be at his retirement party, even me... and we all just... went quiet. It's hard. It's just... hard."

"I'll bet."

"...What about you. How do you feel?"

"...John. After our... little mistake... I wanted you to disappear, I was so embarrassed. Even after we had that talk at Christmas, I was still embarrassed whenever I thought of you. But now... I consider you a friend. I want you to have a full and happy life. I want you to have kids and watch them grow up and have kids of their own. You're a good man... you deserve a good, long, life. This is just so..."

"Unfair?"

"Such is life, I know. It still sucks."

"..."

"..."

"So, how's the Centauri situation going?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Bull shit."

"Jack-"

"NO! Bullshit."

Jack paced John's living room, agitated. John sent up a brief prayer that the argument wouldn't wake his son up and tried again.

"Jack-"

"You are standing right here, healthy, breathing fine, strong and clear minded, you just helped to conceive a child- You CREATED LIFE- and now you're telling me that your life has an expiry date? Bull- Shit." He slammed his hand against the table to make a point.

A floor above them, a baby started to scream.

John rushed upstairs to comfort the screaming infant, followed by his glowering friend.

As John picked his sulky son up and cradled him back to sleep, Zack continued his rant, quieter but no less heartfelt.

"You are acting like it's nothing."

"What!"

"You stand there, cradling you son- _your son_- who is a baby and his Dad already has death looming over his head... and you're just... You act like you're OK with this!"

"I've come to terms with it, if that's what you mean." Said John, calmly. Jack shook his head, incredulous. "It's not like I have much of a choice. I can spend the next twenty odd years ignoring it or raging about it- or I can live eighty years in twenty, make every day count- and give my baby a reason to remember me."

"This is bull shit!" Roared Jack yet again, jolting David out of his daze. As the baby started crying again, Jack continued. "I'm going to outlive you, Johnny. I'm going to go to your funeral."

"Jack," Started John, trying to calm his son and friend at the same time.

"I can't, Johnny. I just can't."

And John watched, helpless, as his oldest friend left the room.

*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*

"He couldn't handle it. He said I was Ok with it, like I'd done something wrong by accepting it."

"He is hurt, and grieving. He will come around." Murmured Delenn. Sheets rustled as she shifted in bed, bringing her arms around him gently. "He is not really angry at you for this, John. He cares for you deeply- does not want to see you hurt. Neither do I."

John turned in the bed and took Delenn in his arms tightly, clutching her desperately. "I could never be hurt. Not as long as I have you and David."

They kissed long and deep into the night.

*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*

As John's eyes crossed over for the tenth time in a minute, decided that perhaps it was time to go home. He prepared his things and left- running straight into Jack Maynard.

"Whoa!" He stopped and stared at his friend of twenty years, who had tear tracks leading from puffy eyes. "Jack! What is it?"

Jack laughed, a small, humourless sound, and said, "What else?"

Not able to think of anything else to do, John put his arm around Jack's shoulders and guided him towards home.

"I couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Couldn't think of anything- except what you told me."

"Jack-"

"No John! Let me finish!" He stopped for a moment, breathing hard. "The first time, I met you; I thought you were just another jarhead. Just another soldier. I didn't give you another thought. Until that day you came running into my quarters when I'd just gotten out of the shower and hadn't found my towel yet. No jarhead could have spluttered like you did that day."

They both smiled at the shared memory.

"Then you got promoted, and we worked together more, and we socialised more, and then... you invited me to your sister's wedding. And I realised... we were friends."

John was silent, the weight of something emotionally momentous pressing down on him, making him short of breath. He and Jack had always been the guys- never talking about their feelings but they did have an incredible bond. Now, he was facing the true, deep feelings of brotherhood they had both acknowledged over the years but had never highlighted in any way, and, truth be told, he was afraid.

"You're like a brother to me, John. And, as a brother... I love you. And... I don't want to lose you. Not like this."

John felt a lump choke him in his throat. He'd never heard Jack talk like this, never thought he and Jack could be thought of by anyone else in such terms.

Truly ironic, that something as tragic as his 'expiry date' could possibly have a positive effect, yet here they were. Speaking words that, otherwise, would have gone to the grave with them.

"Jack. I never had a brother. I never thought I needed one- my sister and I were always close. But... Now I can't imagine my life without you."

As his eyes once again filled with tears, Jack grabbed John in a bear hug, and words became unnecessary.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N; Just to keep things in order, this is obviously earlier than the last ones. John and Lennier have two separate conversations with each other. Sorry for the incredible shortness of this update, John and Lennier didn't want to be together anymore :(

*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*

As he stretched once more, morning blues threatening, he heard the door open. Walking into the living room he saw Lennier coming in with his arms full of shopping.

"Here, let me help." he said, walking forwards, but Lennier hurriedly refused.

"No thank you, Mr President." Placing the bags on the counter, he began sorting through the contents silently. Feeling suddenly awkward and completely out of place, and for some reason rejected, he returned to the bedroom and began collecting his things.

After hunting his left shoe for nearly ten minutes- and finding it in the second place he'd looked, annoyingly enough- he straightened his suit for the twentieth time and went back into the living room. Lennier was still there, calmly filling cupboards and cleaning as he went.

"So," John said heartily, "how's everything been going?"

Neutrally, Lennier replied, "Everything is fine."

'Wow, really?' Thought John, disgruntled. 'How wonderful for you. No wonder you're bouncing with joy.' Shaking his head, trying to shake off his feelings of hurt at Lennier's unspoken dismissal, John tracked down the last of his necessities for the day and prepared to go.

Speaking up for the first time, Lennier said, "Delenn told me about Lorien's prediction."

Completely floored, John said "Oh."

"Seems to be an unusual decision." He continued, his voice oddly thick and unsteady, as if he were fighting something.

Now pissed and confused, trying to keep both out of his voice, John said, "It wasn't exactly a choice."

"What do you mean, it was predestined? Fate?" Lennier said aggressively. He had ceased all pretence of work, standing utterly still and staring John right in the eyes. John had the sudden and jarring impression that he didn't know this man a bit.

"No, it wasn't predestined, it was inevitable!" He said, trying to control his voice.

"Inevitable? So she had no choice, no other way than to sacrifice herself for you?" The diminutive Minbari snarled, his face changing for a moment into a mask of rage, pain and hatred. His whole form seemed to jerk and tremble for a moment and his hand gripped the side of the counter top so hard, the loud crack of crushed, snapping wood reverberated around the room.

Feeling like he was drowning in a river or confusion and pain and barely able to keep himself from launching across the table and grabbing the little twit by the lapels, he said, "Well, they never left her a choice, now did they?"

"So it's their fault, not yours? You, the blameless victim and conquering hero here?" Lennier shouted, hackles well and truly raised. "You're pathetic! You trapped her, imprisoned her, gave her no other choice! It was never about love, it was about control and power you-"

Flashes of Anna's face strobed in his eyes, which were suddenly fighting tears. "How dare you? I loved her! She was my everything and they took her from me-"

"She was never yours and never will be!" Lennier roared. "And you're the one who's taking, not them. They gave her to you because you tricked her, and now you've doomed her to a life of grief and pain because of your selfishness and pride, you bastard!" He finished, screaming.

For several seconds, neither of them moved, pain and fear, rage and hatred matched on both sides. Then, suddenly and without a word, Lennier turned and stormed out, leaving John completely pole-axed and wondering what, exactly, they had just been talking about.


End file.
